ently been elected through Mr. Dempster's exertions, in order
that his zeal against the threatened evening lecture might be backed by
the dignity of office.

'Come, come, Pilgrim,' said Mr. Tomlinson, covering Mr. Budd's retreat,
'you know you like to wear the crier's coat,' green o' one side and red
o' the other. You've been to hear Tryan preach at Paddiford Common--you
know you have.'

'To be sure I have; and a capital sermon too. It's a pity you were not
there. It was addressed to those "void of understanding."'

'No, no, you'll never catch me there,' returned Mr. Tomlinson, not in the
least stung: 'he preaches without book, they say, just like a Dissenter.
It must be a rambling sort of a concern.'

'That's not the worst,' said Mr. Dempster; 'he preaches against good
works; says good works are not necessary to salvation--a sectarian,
antinomian, anabaptist doctrine. Tell a man he is not to be saved by his
works, and you open the flood-gates of all immorality. You see it in all
these canting innovators; they're all bad ones by the sly; smooth-faced,
drawling, hypocritical fellows, who pretend ginger isn't hot in their
mouths, and cry down all innocent pleasures; their hearts are all the
blacker for their sanctimonious outsides. Haven't we been warned against
those who make clean the outside of the cup and the platter? There's this
Tryan, now, he goes about praying with old women, and singing with
charity children; but what has he really got his eye on all the while? A
domineering ambitious Jesuit, gentlemen; all he wants is to get his foot
far enough into the parish to step into Crewe's shoes when the old
gentleman dies. Depend upon it, whenever you see a man pretending to be
better than his neighbours, that man has either some cunning end to
serve, or his heart is rotten with spiritual pride.'

As if to guarantee himself against this awful sin, Mr. Dempster seized
his glass of brandy-and-water, and tossed off the contents with even
greater rapidity than usual.

'Have you fixed on your third delegate yet?' said Mr. Pilgrim, whose
taste was for detail rather than for dissertation.

'That's the man,' answered Dempster, pointing to Mr. Tomlinson. 'We start
for Elmstoke Rectory on Tuesday morning; so, if you mean to give us your
signature, you must make up your mind pretty quickly, Pilgrim.'

Mr. Pilgrim did not in the least mean it, so he only said, 'I shouldn't
wonder if Tryan turns out too many for you, after a